The Blind Eye Sees All
by donalgraeme
Summary: The Void claims all, Death reaching out to take all we have. For it is only in losing our Sight that we learn to See. The Hands of Destiny on his shoulders, Death walking behind him, the Never-Ending Road ahead, Naruto walks forth. Gore,language,sex.
1. Prologue

**This fic carries a bit of meaning for me. You see, most of my fics were just fever dreams that wouldn't stop bugging me until I wrote them down. After the first few chapters, they just lose their luster entirely. **

**THIS fic, on the other hand, has been stewing and growing in my mind for going on two years. It may or may not die out just as fast, but I'm going to give it a shot!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, Assassin's Creed, One Piece, Final Fantasy VII, Bayonetta, Inception, or any other copyright that I might intrude upon.**

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><p>Sarutobi Hiruzen felt old. It wasn't that big a surprise. He'd been alive when Konohagakure had been founded. Three wars and four Hokages later, it was wonder that the Sandaime Hokage was even still breathing. Still, he had never really felt his years until this very moment.<p>

Sarutobi was in a hospital. Again, it was not that big a deal. He _was_ the leader of a village full of shinobi, most of who seemed to have forgotten that a ninja was supposed to hide unnoticed in the shadows, not flashily bend the elements of nature right in front of the enemy. The Trauma Ward of the Konoha Hospital received more traffic than the Burn Ward, the Disease Ward, and the Nursery combined. Considering the, ah, natural beauty of the female inhabitants, that should give you an idea of just how many people needed invasive surgery.

The particular ward the elderly Hokage stood in officially did not exist. It was where the elite of Konoha, the ANBU, and certain others that could not be revealed to the public received their medical care. The door was hidden behind a long wall that required both the chakra of one of a handful of approved doctors and a specific set of hidden locks to be opened. Seals built into the walls prevented any sensor-type ninja from detecting the inhabitants. There were no windows or air vents, the air circulated by seals.

At the moment, the room had a single occupant: a six-year old child.

With weary eyes, Sarutobi looked over the boy's form. He was short, even for his age. His skin always seemed to be slightly tanned, no matter the time of year. His hair was a golden-blond that spiked everywhere in cheery chaos.

His chest was a mass of bandages, some of them still stained red. Having memorized the medical report, Sarutobi knew that there were precisely twenty-seven lacerations on the boy's chest, some subcutaneous, the rest managing to reach the organs. In a detached, purely clinical part of Hiruzen's mind, he mused that the boy's entire intestinal system had been pierced, and the lungs had at the very least been nicked.

That wasn't the worst. That wasn't what made the Hokage feel ashamed and hopeless and as frail and ancient as he truly was.

The boy's name was Uzumaki Naruto. His eyes were blue. His eyes had been blue.

Gauze encircled the boy's head, hiding the gaping holes that were the ocular cavities. They were now empty. The madman that had kidnapped Naruto and butchered his chest had also torn his eyes from their sockets. It had happened with a red-hot blade, ensuring that it was both excruciatingly painful and that the ocular nerve and chakra pathways had been cauterized. There was no hope of reinserting them, and not even the possibility of them being regenerated.

See, Naruto wasn't normal. If not unique, his condition was exceedingly rare. He had a demon sealed inside him, one of the legendary Bijuu, thus making him a Jinchuuriki. In fact, the demon was the strongest of the nine, the Kyuubi no Kitsune.

Though the third such Jinchuuriki to reside in Konoha, he was the first whose status had been revealed to the public, following the brief rampage the Kyuubi had gone on shortly after the birth of its third host and before the death of its second . In the aftermath of that disaster, the nigh-unanimous reaction had been one of unadulterated hatred. All the fear, pain, and loss that each citizen had suffered eagerly latched onto that hatred, entrenching it and ensuring that it would remain long after the scars had healed. It remained to this day, clinging like a tick to the collective psyche of the villagers. Whether it was skin-deep or permanently submerged into the subconscious mind, that hatred of the Kyuubi pulsed and burned in the heart of almost every citizen of Konoha.

And it had been the Sandaime who had foolishly allowed that hatred to be born.

Call it senility. Call it an error in judgment. Call it a massive fuck-up. The label didn't matter. What mattered was that Sarutobi had released classified information to the public, information that had led to the death of any chance Naruto had to live a peaceful life. All on basis of a dying man's last words.

There should be laws against that level of stupidity.

A quiet knock snapped Sarutobi out of his self-loathing, causing him to compose himself. He couldn't afford to show weakness. He was the Hokage.

A series of quiet clicks echoed slightly throughout the room before a portion of the wall opened out, letting two men enter the secret room. The last one in closed the door behind him, less than a second having passed. The maneuver was so practiced that one doctor had once wandered in here in his sleep.

The first man wore the white coat of a doctor and was officially the blandest human being that Hiruzen had ever met in his life. He wasn't tall, wasn't short, wasn't large, wasn't thin, his eyes were an indistinct brown, his hair the same shade, the only exceptional thing about him was that there was nothing exceptional about him.

He was also one of the best Hunter-nin that Konoha had ever produced. The man was so utterly boring that he left absolutely no trail and could literally walk right past his target without them even noticing that he was an ANBU sent to kill them. His kills were always clean and methodical to the point of being ridiculous. There was never any proof that the missing-nin hadn't just taken off. After a few years, he had decided that he'd had enough of quietly arranging heart attacks and strokes before annihilating the evidence. He'd taken his knowledge of the human body and turned it towards the purpose of healing rather than destruction. He didn't have the precise chakra control or ingenuity of Tsunade, but he definitely had the Senju beat when it came to exact knowledge of physiology and how it could be manipulated.

He didn't really have a name. At his own request, all records the village ever had on him were destroyed. Since he only ever worked this particular ward, there was no need to set up an alias. Most had taken to calling him Mouse, due to his quiet nature. He didn't object, and he responded to the name. That was good enough for the Hokage and ANBU.

The second man was more colorful, but no less somber than Mouse. He was a man somewhere in his thirties, with sharp, almost gaunt features. He wore a red coat over standard Jonin garb, and his dirty platinum hair fell in a tail to his mid-back. This was Yamanaka Inoichi, the current commander of the IT division of Konoha's military. His proficiency at his clan's mind-based techniques was without equal, making him ideal for a job that involved getting information out of an unwilling subject.

Mouse silently attended to the various machines attached to Naruto, methodically checking his vitals without a single hint of emotion. Inoichi walked up to a comfortable distance from Sarutobi. The wizened ninja noted how the duller of the two blonds refused to look at the other. His right eye drifted just enough to bring the boy into his peripherals, and it immediately moved in the other direction, accompanied by a minute twitch.

"I have that report, Hokage-sama. Here's all the info I managed to extract about the criminal, as well as a detailed account of the memory."

It would have been invisible to a civilian, but to a Kage the physical minutiae were like a screamed conversation. Inoichi was horrified by how a small boy had mercilessly had his eyes gouged out. He was disgusted with himself for his prior steadfast neutrality regarding the boy. He knew that if he actually saw the terrible damage that had been inflicted on an innocent child, rather than through the lens of a madman's thoughts, he might lose control.

Hiruzen could sympathize wholeheartedly. He'd seen and done unspeakable things in his time, but this was different. Children are the epitome of innocence. They can be complete little monsters at times, but that didn't change the fact that, quite simply, they were young. Untainted. They hadn't been beaten and battered and rendered cynical by a world that at times seemed much, much too dark. Human cruelty is at its darkest and most repulsive when someone with baby teeth is the victim. That was why the Sandaime was such a pacifist. He'd seen children rushed into the battlefield to fill the demands of war, to either come out broken and hollow or not at all. And he'd sworn to never provoke anyone or anything that would lead to him seeing those empty eyes in a child's face.

As he steadily made his way through the harrowing report, Sarutobi became aware of something, something so blindingly obvious that there was no possible way to see it until you'd had your head spun a few degrees.

He was being an idiot.

War was a constant. It was built into the genes of the human race. For some unknowable reason, nature had instilled in mankind one of the most violent set of instincts in existence. The need to prove supremacy, the need to protect the mate and children, to say nothing of the darker temptations that only a being with frontal lobes could even be aware of, let alone be attracted to. Other animals in the kingdom certainly didn't lie, cheat, rape, or kill for a sick thrill. Some _persons_ could be light incarnate and inspire the masses to be a bit better, but the simple, undeniable truth was that _people_, as a whole, are greedy, hateful, destructive, and all around selfish bastards.

The Sandaime could no more stop war than he could stop the sun from rising. No matter how much he might maneuver, negotiate, beg, or plead, one of the other Kage or the smaller villages would decide that it was time to determine who would be left in some pathetic squabble over what was right.

The more the old monkey thought about it, the more he realized stupid and weak he had become. Here he was, Sarutobi Hiruzen, the Sandaime Hokage, the fucking God of Shinobi, and look at him! He spent his days slowly getting carpal tunnel doing paperwork like some kind of executive. He had his hands and feet tied up by a _counsel_ of arrogant civilians, self-concerned clan heads, and two or three old _colleagues_ who all had their own little agenda. And he was incapable of even protecting the son of the greatest leader his village had ever known from a bunch of bigoted fools. The most recent perpetrator, he had just discovered, hadn't even been born in Konoha, or Hi no Kuni for that matter.

Where was 'the Hokage'? Where was the man that was the toughest, darkest, deadliest of a village full to the brim with trained killers that could bend physics to their whim? Where was 'the Professor' that had rendered enemy armies speechless in awe and fear? Where was the fearless leader that had the balls and guts to see to it that his country came out as top dog in not one, but two, count them, _two_ wars?

Certainly not standing here. Not this decrepit old raisin that mishandled every crisis that came his way. But Sarutobi would swear on his deathbed that at that moment, in that epiphany of stunning clarity as he finished off the report, he heard a voice in the back of his head. _'He's right here, ass-licker. He's just waiting for you to get a goddamn clue.'_

Sarutobi closed the folder that held the report, locking his eyes on the comatose from of the blinded Naruto. The sight made his insides squirm, awakening some awful creature in his chest that writhed with something ugly, filling him with fire and ice and darkness. He had felt the creature once before, and had fled as far as he could in the other direction.

This time he didn't turn away. He took hold of the beast and let it grow, spreading to fill his whole body with twisting, stinging limbs that took hold and held tight like they planned on growing roots. The Sandaime deliberately filled himself with pain, rage, guilt, and hate, everything that made up the darkness of the soul.

And he planned to fucking use it.

"Inoichi," he said, causing everyone in the room freeze. There was something in the old man's voice that only one person there had heard before. It was a voice of burning steel, of something resolute and dangerous. "Call the Council. I must speak with them." Inoichi nodded, his face perplexed, though he was hiding it well, and left the room. Sarutobi made a gesture with his hand and the heretofore-invisible ANBU bodyguards filed out as well.

Mouse obligingly moved out of the way as Sarutobi stepped forward to lay his palm on the boy's forehead. He stayed there for a single moment, drawing his resolve from this terribly harmed boy, before leaving out the same door. Mouse silently continued to monitor the patient for six minutes.

"'Bout damn time," he muttered to the empty room.

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><p>The Council chamber was located within the Hokage Tower. Reasonably large, there were comfortable mats laid out across the floor for the clan heads and civilian representatives to sit on. A raised dais at the back of the room featured three chairs, two of which were currently occupied by Mitokado Homura and Utatane Koharu, the man and woman that had served once upon a time as Team Tobirama alongside Sarutobi Hiruzen.<p>

The room was full of chatter, every person at their designated mat. Given that yelling in a covert chamber was inherently prohibited, most alliances in the village (that didn't involve accomplished Helstromists) were based on one's proximity to other Council members during meetings. Most of the talk in the room carried a grumbling, annoyed tone. Most people didn't like being woken up at 1 AM for a bout of political decision-making. Shocking, really.

The double-doors opened in perfect synchronicity and eerie silence. An unwholesome amount of killing intent flooded the air. The civilians were immediately silent as they choked on the suffocating force, while the clan heads held still in something akin to confused awe: they had felt this much of the stuff before, but never so controlled. Koharu and Homura recognized it instantly and exchanged looks as alarm bells went off in their highly-tuned political senses.

Sarutobi Hiruzen strolled into the room, the unusual quiet highlighting the fact that, despite a lifetime's worth of aches and scars, he still moved without a sound. The intent remained constant as he swiftly made his way up the dais and took his seat. Only then did the 'ice-down-your-spine-walking-over-your-grave' feeling dissipate.

"Good evening," the Hokage said, as if time had turned back twenty years and he had just come off the battlefield with the blood of those he killed still cooling on his armor. The utter authority in those two words had everyone suddenly sitting straighter in their seats.

"This meeting of the Konoha Council is now in session. I'll cut to the chase. Approximately six hours ago, one of our greatest military assets was sabotaged by a deep-cover spy from Iwa. We have the spy in custody; however, the situation demands immediate and decisive action."

The Council absorbed this information: there was a moment of shocked silence before the civilians exploded, giving the ninja time to plan their response.

"This is a clear act of aggression. I say we take the fight to Iwa and pay them back for this insult. We had them on the ropes during the last war; I say we take this chance to finish what we started!" This shouted cry from the Haruno member provoked similarly loud proclamations from the rest of the civilian half.

"Fools! Do you have any idea what a war would cost us?" Inuzuka Tsume yelled, slamming her fist on the floor as her wolf companion, Kuromaru, growled his agreement. Being both the most outspoken and easily angered clan head, she was generally the one to diffuse the first dumb suggestions from the civilians. "Iwa has forces on a similar scale as our own, and the mountains surrounding them make any invasion suicide. We'd be crushed by manufactured rockslides before we made it halfway there. To say nothing of how the other villages would react if we moved the majority of our forces out of the country! You're all acting like spoiled pups!"

Nara Shikaku widened his eyes from half-closed to unfocused, indicating his rise from his constant state of half-napping to contribute the latest insight from his razor-sharp mind. "A war would be extremely troublesome at this point. Our numbers still haven't recovered from the event six years ago, and Iwa has been paranoid about an attack ever since the end of the war. Our latest reports indicate that Kumo has been stockpiling weapons as well. The scenarios are troublesome any way you look at it: anything but full mobilization would lead to the full defeat of any force that might be sent to Iwa, and if we do that, then what forces that survive would come back to find the village on fire, our skeleton guard dead in the streets. Direct confrontation is definitely not the right choice." So saying, he returned to his mini-coma.

The other two members of the infamous Ino-Shika-Cho trio submitted their own opinions about war, reasoning with all but the most stubborn civilians. It should be noted that Inoichi was particularly vehement. The Sandaime remained silent, well aware and expecting someone to eventually call him out. His expectations were answered when the stoic head of the Hyuuga, Hiashi, spoke up, his smooth baritone reaching the far corners of the room.

"Hokage-sama, if you would clarify, which asset exactly has been so critically damaged by an Iwa agent? The extent of the damage could factor into how intensely Konoha should respond."

Hiruzen didn't even bother answering, coolly ignoring the various stares that were sent his way as the rest of the Council became aware of how vague the supposed offense was. Instead, he turned to face his rival. Shimura Danzo met his gaze calmly and without malice, though it was hard to tell considering that one eye, much like his right arm, was hidden by bandages while the other and the rest of the former Hokage candidate's face was hidden by the creases of scars and old age.

"It was the Uzumaki boy, was it not," the cripple stated rather than asked with the barest trace of smugness in his voice. His words had an immediate effect on the Council, changing most faces from expressions of indignance and righteous anger to indifference, contempt, and in some cases outright hatred. The old Sarutobi would have sighed, knowing he had just lost any support he might have just had.

The new one took it in stride.

"Indeed, Danzo-san. The spy from Iwa lured Uzumaki Naruto to his home, where he knocked the boy out before torturing and blinding the boy upon his return to consciousness. The damage to his eyes was done in such a way that the Kyuubi cannot regenerate them. Luckily, an ANBU managed to hear the boy's screams and thus apprehend the spy upon his discovery."

"_Un_lucky is what he means," muttered one of the merchant representatives.

"What goes around comes around," said the residential chief of the village with a cruel little smirk on his face.

"Forget war, we should think of sending Iwa a thank-you," murmured Haruno Tsutsuji, completely contradicting her earlier call for retribution. Her jade eyes glimmered with a sadistic satisfaction that most would have expected on a certain albino snake summoner.

Such comments continued to pick up steam as Koharu decided to speak up. "It may be that you are overeating, Hokage-sama. The breach in our security is somewhat troubling, but it is definitely not in our best interests to provoke action from Iwa merely because a single youth-!"

The old woman was silenced as enough killing intent to make his opening entrance seem like a muffled hiccup radiated out from the Sandaime, none of it leaving the room and becoming all the more potent for that. The civilians broke out into cold sweats as their pupils dilated with fear, their minds filled with countless visions of their own deaths at the hands of their supposed pacifist of a leader within the space of a second. The ninja reacted in more subtle ways: Shikaku woke up fully; a faint buzzing sound began to emanate from Aburame Shibi; Tsume began growling almost sub-audibly in the back of her throat; Uchiha Fugaku activated his bloodline. The two companions to the eye of the storm sat frozen in shock, completely caught off guard by this uncharacteristic display of force. Danzo alone seemed unaffected, though the modicum of hubris vanished.

'_Hmm… it seems he's finally grown a back-bone. A pity that the timing couldn't be any more off. I'll have to reconsider my plans carefully.'_

"It is apparent that I was unclear with my words," said the Sandaime, his voice of steel and simmering flame no different than it was at the start. "A ninja from Iwa, whom has been present and quietly siphoning off information from the village since shortly before the end of the war, tore the eyes out of the sockets of a 5-year old child, who had the potential to become one of our strongest shinobi. In what way do we owe Iwa gratitude?"

It was clear to even the most pigheaded councilors that any answer would result in their immediate death. The room remained as cold and silent as a crypt.

Sarutobi smiled, and it sent ice down the spines of everyone there. "Let me clarify a few points that I have let sit for six years in the hope that not everyone in this chamber is a bigoted, self-serving asshole. Firstly, the seal in place to keep the Kyuubi within Naruto is flawless. Jiraiya himself was surprised at the level of complexity and layers of safeguards that Minato managed to apply in so short a time frame. The Kyuubi might as well be a single kunai held within a giant storage seal for all it can do to the outside world. The Kyuubi is never getting out of that seal on its own.

"Secondly," continued the old war leader, the pressure in the room intensifying further, if that were even possible. "That is not to say that it can't be released. The seal is tied inextricably to Naruto's own psyche. Should the boy undergo extreme and excessive amounts of mental trauma and anguish, the seal will correspondingly weaken, allowing the Kyuubi to gain influence over the boy. Push him too hard, and Naruto might very well remove the seal out of sheer despair." His eyes might as well have been diamond-sharp spikes as he pinned the civilian council with his gaze. "There are no loopholes, exceptions, or concessions in what I am about to say: you are idiots. You neglect, abuse, and outright harm the boy in the belief that 'the Kyuubi must pay' or 'the demon must fear us', when in reality, you are making it more and more likely that the very monster you are all so afraid of will reappear."

In another setting, his words might have made a few councilors uncomfortable, but the majority would brush it off as senile foolishness. Held at figurative knifepoint by a semi-unstable assassin lord, the impact was much more effective. Many councilors gulped as they suffered a BFO on a scale so massive that it could outshine the sun. Of course a few die-hards were already applying some industrial strength denial, but those were only the true fanatics.

"Thirdly, and I feel this to be painfully obvious, the boy is _human_." His gaze flicked from Danzo to his teammates to Fugaku and Hiashi before settling on the civilians again, a fact that did not go unnoticed by the clan heads despite how unnerved they were. "He is not the Kyuubi made flesh. He is not some tool or weapon to mold and point. He is a human being. A person with his own distinct personality, dreams, and desires. Had a fraction of the cruelties he has already suffered in his short life been inflicted on any other person, the public would probably lynch those responsible in outrage. But no, this is not so with Naruto. Not only is most of the village guilty of his suffering, but apparently it's not the same. He's a Jinchuuriki, so cruel and unusual punishment isn't seen the same way." The bite of the sarcasm in the last few words literally hurt Kuromaru and his more instinct-sensitive ears.

"And fourthly," the Hokage said, ceasing to project the killing intent that had been going on the whole time. In its absence, the sheer presence of Sarutobi could be felt, the air that surrounds any dangerous born leader.

"I. Am. Hokage. My word is the law of Konoha. I have shown my worth in blood, both my own and that of those I have killed. The people of Konoha rest on my protection as I draw strength from their numbers. I command an army from the shadows as I alter the world around me. I am led as I lead, and I serve as I am served. I am Hokage. And this Council has forgotten its place."

Uchiha Fugaku was not a man who responded well to being talked down to, no matter the circumstances. The arrogance his clan was infamous for seemed etched into his very bones. The stick up his ass was easily the size of the trunk of a tree from the Forest of Death. It was a common joke in the shinobi bars that "if Fugaku's head were any bigger, he'd float instead of walk."

As such, the fates decreed that he would be the first example of just how much the Sandaime meant business.

"With respect Hokage, I must say you are speaking from arrogance," said the cruel schemer, unaware and uncaring that the level of hypocrisy he had just exhibited was on an order of magnitude equivalent to a thermonuclear explosion. "The Hokage is a powerful figure, but no one is infallible. The foundations of Konoha deserve a voice in what happens in village affairs, and without being to blunt, you are getting on in years and your judgment isn't what it once was."

Hiruzen slowly turned his head to fully stare at Fugaku in a movement worthy of any zombie film worth the name. A grim smile of satisfaction slashed the old man's face, setting off klaxons, fog horns, and all manner of loud warnings in the Uchiha's head. "Very true, Uchiha-san. However, you seem to have forgotten one crucial fact. When Hashirama-sensei first established the Konoha Charter, he outright stated that the village would be a military dictatorship. If the civilians and clans weren't willing to accept that, they shouldn't have signed on." Fugaku could only gape at this abrupt slap. It was like he was an unruly child being reprimanded by an adult. Such disrespect could not be tolerated!

But the Hokage was not done. "I'll let you all in on a little secret. Tobirama-sensei formed the council during the Second War because, and I quote, "if those pansies are going to bitch and whine about having no say, they might as well do it to my face where everyone can hear them." It seems he underestimated just how childish and megalomaniacal the Council would be."

Everyone was gaping. Bad-ass entrance, warranted fear of death, and major hole-reaming aside, this was about when the Council actually processed that the weak, meek, bitch of an old man they once had to deal with had left the building. In his place was a harsh, fierce warrior-king who had decided that now was the time to come out of retirement. If it weren't for the fact that everyone there had at the very least vague memories of a time when he acted similar during the wars, they might have been convinced they were looking at a very convincing Henge. Since it wasn't, proven by a dozen subtle (not that Sarutobi didn't notice and catalog each one) attempted 'Kai' release techniques, it became painfully clear that they were indeed in the presence of a beast whose peaceful slumber they had mistaken for death.

"As much as it pains me to admit it, it would seem that this attack on Naruto will be very beneficial to the village as a whole. It reveals that our ninja are so complacent and oblivious that the spy managed to put down roots without anyone the wiser. All of your various reactions has made it clear that it is long overdue to clean house in regards to the power structure. And I am finally awake." That last statement was anything but cryptic: it was clear as day that the old persona of Hiruzen was alive and well after years of inactivity.

A plume of smoke appeared on the small desk in front of Sarutobi's chair on the dais. A child-sized monkey with smoky-grey fur wearing the general attire of a Yakuza enforcer appeared in front of Sarutobi. The simian wordlessly handed the Sandaime a letter before dismissing itself, returning to the Summoning realm.

Sarutobi cracked the official-looking seal with practiced ease and slid out a few inches of a letter written on very thick, expensive paper. A small pleased grin split the old man's lift. Looking up to face all the Council except his teammates, everyone in the room got a good look of the man's eyes. Eyes that burned with a determination and strength that blazed like a bonfire that had burned for decades and would burn for decades more.

"When the forest has grown diseased and corrupt, a cleansing brushfire comes to sweep the debris away as ashes and let the tree grow once more. It would seem that the fire has arrived. I have just received the confirmation from the Daimyo for my request to institute a state of martial law. It seems my reasoning proved satisfactory." No one could respond. It was too much to take in at once.

"Until such a time as I or any of my successors deem it necessary to be reestablished, I, Sarutobi Hiruzen, Sandaime Hokage of Konohagakure no Sato, do declare this Council disbanded!"

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><p><strong>Well, you like? This is the first taste. I assure you that it will thicken into a feast that you will never forget. While, <em>yes<em>, I will be borrowing concepts, powers, and even lines from various sources, I assure you all that the heart of the characters will remain completely true and original, even when I mercilessly mold and mutate them. It should be fun!**

**To all OP fans who just jumped at the author alert, I promise that I won't forget TBWH, it's just that this now takes priority.**

**Have a Happy Spring Break, to all those who live in the DC Metropolitan area. To all others, sucks to be you! Ja ne!**


	2. Agony

**It is a popular method of fanfiction writers to have Naruto disappear and show up around the time of the graduation exam. At that point, he will be god-like, have had at least one 'odd' teacher, and have the Hokage's full support. I am taking that idea and… twisting it a little. Just fair warning; I'm not sure I'll reach that point in this chapter.**

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><p><em>Naruto sat curled up in a ball against the wall of the alley. He wasn't hiding from anyone, though Heaven knows that he had to some times. He wasn't thinking about his next meal, though his tiny stash of money was growing increasingly pitiful, to the point that even cheap, albeit ambrosial, ramen would be a bit of a splurge. He wasn't even crying; he never did that in the open.<em>

_He was watching. He had laid his tiny body down where he would be least noticed and just watched the bustling road just outside the alley. He saw merchants shouting, each trying to drown out the next as they proclaimed their wares. Laborers and farmers came and went with carts, either delivering supplies or buying. Civilians thronged, going this way and that way, moving with the purpose and ease of experience as they navigated the road. The occasional man or woman dressed in fine yet sturdy robes marked the servants and messengers of the nobles and clans, each moving to and fro, making bulk orders and signing a ledger or walking into shops to discuss some deal. And here or there were the ninja, moving with an unconscious grace and easy confidence, maneuvering through the crowd like swans through a flock of geese. They were off-duty, of course; otherwise they wouldn't be seen, jumping the rooftops instead of taking the mundane path. All the same, even relaxed, they possessed a surety of motion and awareness of their surroundings that left no doubt that they were predators. The whole mess of people ebbed and flowed, making way for each other and interacting with a cheerfulness or polite disinterest as they all went their own way._

_Naruto wondered what made him different from any of them. _

_It was so… confusing. He'd use 'unfair' but his whole life had been that, that would be like saying the dog barks. He never hurt anyone, he didn't insult anyone (on purpose) and it wasn't like he had leprosy and a hunchback. Never in Naruto's life had he ever done anything to offend people. From what he could tell, he acted no differently than any other boy his age._

_Regardless, he was hated. Not disliked, not disapproved of, complete strangers completely _loathed_ him. People sneered when they saw him like they were looking at some massive, wriggly insect. Adults herded other kids away from him almost before he had even said hello. Anytime he tried to talk to anyone he was either ignored as if he weren't there or yelled/beaten for 'daring to spread his taint'. He was insulted for things he wasn't, punished for things he hadn't done, and it just did not make any sense._

_Naruto wasn't a retard or anything. Most things were perfectly clear or obvious once you thought about it a little. Don't sleep in the rain. If it's black with flies, don't eat it. Cats are evil. But no matter how often Naruto worked it out in his head, he couldn't work out why he was treated the way he was. Humans are creatures of habit; there's a time and a place for everything, and everything has its time and place. Even those whirlwind wackos that move every few months and seem to have no plan at all have some form of routine. Social interaction was an extension of those habits. And whatever Naruto did when he was near people was met with the exact opposite reaction anyone else would get. Can I buy this? Get the hell away, trash! Hello. Go away! Could you help me? …_

_What was it? Where was the logic? Were his parents traitors? But he was an orphan, no one knew who his parents were, besides no one made even a passing comment remotely hinting that his abuse was anything but his own fault. Did people just hate blondes? No, those people at the flower shop got treated pretty nicely._

_For whatever reason, Naruto's life was hell. He had no one and no one wanted him. Things people took completely for granted were to him unattainable luxuries. Things like a warm bed, clean water, a _hand shake_. Ever since those mean orphan ladies had literally tossed him in the streets, he'd been scraping by on the skin of poverty. Old, dirty coins he found in the dirt paid for food, though he never seemed to have enough. Another oddity: he handed the exact same amount for the exact same thing as another person at whichever store he went to. He was either ignored and forced to put item x back or told quite plainly that it wasn't enough. He couldn't exactly call the shopkeepers out on that; he picked up numbers and a few basic words, but things like grammar and math, those things people had to actually teach you that you couldn't just pick, well, he didn't get those for obvious reasons._

_Naruto could vaguely remember an old man with white robes that used to visit him in the orphanage. The mean ladies always acted different when he came by, all smiles and talking nice to him when just the day before they had yelled at him for breathing loudly. Something in the man's eyes convinced Naruto that he knew they were faking. The man had been genuinely polite to Naruto, asking him how things were going. He seemed just as confused as he was about his treatment, though the young blond could have sworn that there was a flash of something else every time he was asked what had happened since the last time the old man visited. Maybe it was because Naruto also faked when the old man came by. After the first visit when it became clear that the old man actually cared, Naruto had been extra careful to never look sad when they talked. Acting sad always made people even worse towards him. No need to take chances._

_Back to the subject at hand. After losing his only link to the old man after getting kicked out of the orphanage, and now even more dependent on people's good graces, Naruto devoted all the free time he had not spent scavenging to studying the villagers, determined to find out which nuance of status quo he was unknowingly violating in order to warrant such treatment. Once he figured it out, he could fix it, and maybe then people would start actually being nice to him._

_Naruto was jerked out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder. For most, the reaction would be at most a jerk or twitch. Most people._

_Naruto lunged away from the hand with a whimper and was halfway down the alley before a soft, comforting voice said "Whoa! Whoa, slow down."_

_Naruto paused. That voice… only the old man talked like that. But it wasn't the old man's voice. What was going on?_

_Naruto slowly turned. A middle-aged man, nowhere near as old as Old Man, stood by where Naruto had just been sitting. He was half-crouched, which still left him well above eye-level with Naruto. His hair was brown, streaked with grey, and he had a beard that looked to have the same texture as steel wool. His eyes were slate grey and every line of his body language screamed caring and compassion, like your favorite uncle you can't wait to see at the family reunion._

"_Damn, didn't think you'd scamper like that. So, whatcha doin' in this alley here?" The man smiled as he stood up, revealing his above-average height. Naruto stood frozen in confusion, which didn't preclude his noticing that the man was a ninja. Oh, it wasn't obvious. Naruto would have said that it was just like a civilian's gait if it weren't for the silence with which the man walked through the small amount of litter scattered across the ground. No one could move that quietly without explicit training and practice. Still, he wasn't getting any danger signs off of him, so Naruto decided to just tuck that fact off to the side._

_Belatedly, Naruto realized the man expected him to answer. "Watching," he said, cringing a little at how raspy his voice was. He hadn't had a drink in a while, so that explained it, but the last thing he needed was to be even more unpleasant on the senses to people._

_Oddly enough, the man didn't seem repulsed at all. If anything, his grin grew even bigger. "Really? Whatcha watchin'?" The man's accent was becoming evident, and for some reason it seemed to float around Naruto's ears, almost like it was tickling his ear drum before going all the way in. It felt strangely nice, and Naruto found himself letting go of a bit of the tension he'd felt since being touched._

"_They. I watch they. I see what wrong. Why I wrong." Naruto didn't know a lot of words. Well, he 'knew' a lot of words; he wasn't deaf. But he spent so little time actually participating in conversation that he never really learned _when_ to use most words, so he stuck to what worked and hoped he didn't sound too much like a toddler babbling brokenly._

_The man's smile turned a tad sad while his eyes gleamed sympathetically. It was the most affection Naruto had ever gotten from anyone short of Old Man, and he was amazed how warm it made his heart feel. It practically burst when the man put a hand on his shoulder and looked straight into his eyes as he said "There's nothing wrong with you Naruto."_

_Naruto didn't find it strange that his body didn't reflexively rebel at the human contact. He didn't notice that the man hadn't even given his name. The fact that with every second he spent in the man's presence he was steadily, unnaturally growing comfortable slipped his notice. The screams of his instincts going 'Danger! Trick! Not real! Don't trust!' went unheard. It had barely been a minute, and yet Naruto already trusted this man as much as he did the Hokage, if not more so._

_Kento maintained the mask of 'caring confidant' on his face expertly as he cackled within his head. As an infiltration specialist, he had more than his fair share of subtle Genjutsu meant to suppress suspicion and promote trust. Any Chunin worth his salt would have noticed something off, but on this lonely child the sensory-based illusion was eaten up like cake._

_Kento could barely hold back his anticipation of how he would make this demon pathetically hiding in a child's skin pay. He knew that he was risking his mission, and the Tsuchikage would probably have his head if he ever heard of this, but he could care less about that. It had been so simple, marrying Saia to help strengthen his cover of an eager refugee merchant trying to find a new home. He had never predicted that he would come to love her, or their daughter. He'd had training to see such relationships as means to an end, just another part of the disguise. Apparently, even a heart as cold as his could learn to love. For a while his life seemed perfect: copy the secret documents from influential clans when he delivered his wares, send them anonymously to a drop point near the border, and then lose himself in the happy chaos of his false job and home life._

_Then the Kyuubi. That monster that had appeared from nowhere, for no other reason than to destroy. He'd been running to his house from a late night's work, actually within sight of the door, when an errant flick of a tail collapsed the home that he loved more than his country, and the two people that meant most to him with it. He'd dug frantically through the wreckage, and had caught one haunting glimpse of Saia, little Rina in her arms, both pierced through with splinters the size of his arm, when the shinobi charged with evacuating the village dragged him away towards the shelter. He'd been too shocked to react with skills that would have blown his cover._

_Kento had been in a daze for months. He couldn't even find within himself the power to rejoice the death of the hated Yondaime. It wasn't worth it; he'd gladly bring back the man that had caused his country so much grief if it meant that he could hold his wife and daughter in his arms again. Slowly, he had fallen back into routine. He kept up his espionage, and grew in prestige as a merchant for his reliability. But every day, he came back to an empty house, the silence mocking him with the ghosts of happy memories._

_On what would have been Rina's twelfth birthday, he cracked. She'd always wanted to be a kunoichi; but the Academy had never even seen her, and that year's graduating class would be absent one bright-eyed, loving girl it might once have had. In the aftermath of the sobbing fit that he fell into when he realized the date and its implications, he'd reached the inescapable conclusion, completely sure and without a shadow a doubt in the way only madmen can be, that the Kyuubi had to die._

_Really, it was obvious. It had caused so much death and destruction, and that bastard Yondaime had even gone to the trouble of trapping it in the weak form of a child. Why was that thing even still breathing? Wait! The demon was a fox, and they were known for their tricks! It must be the subtle influence of its power, convincing people that it was just some frail kid while it slowly grew back into its full power. But that wouldn't work on him, oh no. His breakdown had let him see past the lies. He would destroy that demon, and all the trickery in the world wouldn't stop him from finally exacting justice for his dead Saia and his precious Rina!_

_Kento continued to rub the boy's shoulder soothingly, making a mental note to cleanse it with boiling water later, ensuring his illusion got maximum impact through his touch. The boy was practically putty already. This was almost too easy. Guess foxes were only good at pulling off tricks, not seeing through them._

"_Come on, Naruto. Let's find you somethin' ta eat. Ya seem half-starved." Naruto eagerly followed the grinning face of Kento, totally unaware that it would haunt his nightmares for years to come._

* * *

><p>It was dark. So dark. And wet. Where was he? Why did his eyes hurt so much when he couldn't even see anything? He stumbled and hit a wall, and he almost broke down crying. He was lost, confused, and the terrible, terrible memories just wouldn't leave him alone!<p>

* * *

><p><em>Naruto slowly opened his eyes, wondering woozily why he felt so groggy. What had happened? The real nice guy, Kenpo or something, had taken him to a modest two-story that he said was his house. Naruto was in awe of everything he had seen inside; he'd never even seen some of these things! The orphanage had been way too poor to afford a TV, and random bits of artwork held his interest as if they were the work of masters.<em>

_Kento had chuckled at the blonde's excessive interest and curiosity, even managing not to sound malicious or maniacal or anything. Then he'd brought Naruto into the kitchen were an absolutely MASSIVE feast had been laid out. Naruto had been unashamedly drooling at the sight of so much food, more than he'd ever seen in his life. Kento has laughed at the absolute roar that escaped Naruto's stomach and told him to eat as much as he could._

_And boy did he ever!_

_What most people didn't realize about Naruto's regeneration, of those who were even aware of it, was that it wasn't purely the power of the Kyuubi behind it. The Uzumaki were infamous for their strong, vital body energy that allowed most elders to be supercentenarians. Add that to the yang chakra of a living natural disaster, and Naruto had one of the most powerful body energies and immune systems in existence, period. This is what allowed for Naruto to recover from any and all injuries at record speeds._

_And it carried over to his metabolism._

_Naruto ate everything on the table. Everything. Plates of foods he didn't know the names of. Tidbits so rich that any other person would be sick after more than a few. Even fruits and vegetables! Naruto took it all and devoured it faster than a group of hungry Akimichi could hope to. Naruto had let loose one massive belch, given the disturbed Kento the biggest smile of his young life, and then promptly fell over, dead unconscious._

_The unstable spy shook his head. "Day-umn, it sure eats like an animal. Then again, that means it got even more of the drug." A grin that would send shivers down any rational person's spine spread across the man's face as he hauled the boy onto his shoulder. "Now, let me show you to your 'room'."_

_This brings us back to the slightly hung-over youth, awake a good twelve hours earlier than he had any right to be, feeling as weak as an anemic kitten._

_The boy's head was slowly clearing. Things were still really strange, though. He was in a dark room, barely visible even to his, unknown to him, excellent night vision. When he tried to move, he couldn't. A few quick jerks revealed that his hands and feet were bound as if he were an insane person getting a check-up. An identical restraint was laid across his chest, restricting both further movement and his breathing. Whatever he was laying on was flat, unyielding, and chill._

_Naruto tried really hard not to panic. It never helped, and it would make it even harder to breathe in this predicament. Naruto just had to stay calm until he figured out what the heck was going on. Maybe Kento would come help…_

_Naruto spent the next two hours gradually getting more and more terrified. He was bound and helpless in somewhere dark, unknown, and cold. Your average adult would be freaked out of their mind. For a child who had every reason to suspect the worst in life…_

_Finally, just as the boy was on the verge of hyperventilating, the lights came on. Naruto was instantly blinded, and a whimper of pain came out of his parched throat. He was really thirsty, and the light was so bright that it hurt. As his pupils slowly contracted, Naruto could make out only a hazy outline steadily approaching him. Naruto blinked until the image resolved into Kento, now unsmiling, looking down on him._

"_Kento-san, where am I? W-Why do I feel so—" Naruto's question was cut off by a train ramming into his tummy. He choked on his own air, unable to scream, as pain more intense than anything he'd ever felt roared through him. The villagers were mean, but they'd never really _hurt_ him!_

"_Shut the fuck up, you animal. I'm not going to fall for that little innocent act. You took everything from me, and now you're going to pay. Save your breath for screaming." The tone was almost as horrifying as the words to the boy. This man, the one who had been so nice to him, who had given him food, was speaking to him with a voice of ice and eyes filled with something ugly and terrible that it made Naruto want to cry._

"_W-What d-d-do you m-mean? I never did anything. I never hurt anybody…" Naruto felt despair fill his chest as déjà vu strummed through his thoughts. They were the same words, every time he was despised, every time he was abused and had to stare into the eyes of hate._

_What Naruto didn't expect was just how potent that hatred was._

_The ugly thing in Kento's eyes burned white-hot in sudden rage and his fists came down like meteors. "LIAR! FILTH! HELLSPAWN! MURDERER!" Every word was matched with a blow, and something in Naruto broke. Whatever inner strength that let him weather the village's hatred wilted and he was nothing but hopelessness, broken sadness, and pain._

_The knife came next. Naruto wept piteously as fire and ice ravaged his frame and steaming life's blood sprayed through the air. How could it hurt so _much? _With absolute certitude, he knew he was dying. That was the only explanation. He was going to die, and no one would even care. Tears mixed with the blood on his chest._

_Through it all, Kento was screaming: insults, accusations, senseless rage, it all came tumbling out in cacophonous sound. This was his salvation, his release: he was making this demon pay! SO WHY WASN'T IT WORKING! Why wasn't the demon dying? Why did it cling to the lost child ploy? It kept staring at him with that pleading betrayed look in its eyes and IT WAS RUINING HIS MOOD!_

"_STOP WITH THE EYES ALREADY!" the deranged man screamed as he finally decided to remove the root of the problem. He channeled his fire chakra into the knife and hooked it into Naruto's left eye until he scooped it out, blackening the super-sensitive flesh behind and utterly frying everything left behind._

_There was no possible way for Naruto to scream any louder when the same happened to his right eye. But it wasn't for lack of trying._

_His world exploding, his throat tearing, his chest burning, Naruto fell without warning into a place that was dark and quiet and numb and empty._

_Two seconds later, Kento was pressed up against the wall and looking into a pair of red-and-black eyes._

* * *

><p>In a dark, dank sewer, Naruto stumbled. He was quite obviously scared, whimpering like an animal with the childlike symptom of a runny nose. He kept bumping into walls as if he had no idea that they were there. If any third party were present, they would have fled screaming at the sight. Maybe it had something to do with the gaping black holes in the boy's face, and the tears of blood leaking like red waterfalls down his face.<p>

As he stumbled through the depths of his own subconscious, the presence lying further in was caught in one of the biggest dilemmas of its admittedly linear life.

The Kyuubi was evil. No ifs, ands, or buts. It drew power from hate. It reveled in destruction and suffering. Any minute spent under the moon rendering all in its sight to ash was a golden moment. There was a freedom in destruction, purity in the firestorm of devastation. The Kyuubi took order and stability and the thousand thousand little locks humanity used to try to arrange the world around them and turned it into chaos. It was a true release to set everything back to zero, to tear down what had been built up.

The Kyuubi detested love and honor and all manner of such pathetic notions. The world was a battlefield, a warzone, a contest. Strength and power ruled, and to chain that all to abstract ideals and things that simply _were not_ was laughably ridiculous.

That's not to say that the Kyuubi did not respect the bonds of family. What he detested was how sentimental and overly exaggerated every human being seemed to make. A sibling was either a great ally or a great enemy, since they knew you. Mates brought pleasure and seed that must be raised to grow into its power. Elders should be revered for their experience. But no one just stopped at that. They acted irrational, made stupid decisions for the sake of a perceived justice or obligation. A clan was a collection of individuals with similar strengths and an inherent advantage of interdependence, but mortals never seemed to get that. They made choices for others, repressed natural reactions, the list went on.

So, it was safe to say that the Kyuubi saw the world as a jungle: survival first.

It was precisely for this that the Kyuubi was tempted to go against everything it stood for.

It hated its hosts. It hated being locked into frail shells of flesh, locked in a state of existence somewhere between excruciation and listlessness. Yet, all the same, its hosts were a part of its territory. The Kyuubi would have no compunctions against destroying everything its host held dear in order to escape, but at the same time they were under its care. An affront or injury to a host was an injury to it.

A broken arm wouldn't rouse it, though. That was a consequence of entering the contest and proving insufficient. What _did_ bother it, then? Well, things like sabotage. Things like starvation, excessive cruelty, depravation. And most especially maiming without death.

A fight was clean. It need not be fair, or necessary, but a straight confrontation was simple, sweet, and settled pretty much anything. The Kyuubi could handle that. What it could NOT handle was all this spineless, indirect, cowardly INTERFERENCE! It was one thing to fight for food, another to have it hidden where it cannot be found. One to hamper, another to deny even the chance. One to weaken, another to cripple. Death should be simple and immediate; not long, not protracted, not served piecemeal a nugget at a time while the creature that eventually succumbed had absolutely no chance of fighting back.

However, that was _exactly_ what had happened to its latest host. The boy was shunned, poisoned by degrees, but none of it came from the front! The Kyuubi didn't mind the thought of death too much; if it couldn't manage to escape its host in time, it didn't deserve to live. But this? This constant bleeding off, a wounding here or there, forever damaging it host without finishing it off? That was an insult of the highest caliber.

In short: the Kyuubi was straightforward. It was pure black, and perfectly okay with that. The crooked, off-white, inconsistent paradox of its host's plight was an offense to its very being.

So, shouldn't it help its host get the power to stop such treatment once and for all?

And thus did the unstoppable force meet an immovable object. Kyuubi despised humans in general, and its hosts had a special place in its heart for hatred. Then again, its host was going through hell with both hands tied behind his back and a bag over his head. Even by its Darwinist standards, that was wrong. So, to correct this wrong, it should help its host get strong enough to end the insult. But that would be _giving_ power away, and power only mattered if it was earned. The only option was to let its host break its own way. On the other hand…

It was driving the Bijuu up the wall.

It wasn't long until the object of the Kyuubi's musings stumbled into the chamber. The Kyuubi clenched its teeth, its version of frowning. Its host wasn't a pretty sight. The eyelids had been among the carnage, so the black holes where the boy's eyes should have been remained gaping open at all times. Moreover, the boy's hatred was so formless and confused that it might as well not exist. Self-hatred was effective, cold, slowly burning vendettas were lovely, but amorphous blobs of destructive passion were among the Kyuubi's least favorite flavors of the stuff.

As the boy shambled across the room, Kyuubi's dilemma all but vanished as he realized one, much more important fact: the boy was _walking towards his cage!_ Freedom was all but beckoning. All the boy had to do was walk past the bars: then the Kyuubi could take over, kill everything, and sever the Gordian knot of its little problem quite neatly.

The beast almost considered tempting the child with offers of comfort, but decided against. Its aura alone should have warned the boy away from the cage. The last thing it wanted was to shatter whatever daze the boy was in with a voice as rumbling as a mountain's bones in a thunderstorm.

The boy crept ever closer. The Kyuubi readied a claw to snatch the boy into the depths of the cage and into its maw as soon as he crossed the protective barrier of the gates. In passing, the Kyuubi reflected that the boy's condition was truly pitiful. The tears of blood were leaving trails on the ground, they were falling so hard.

The boy stumbled and fell headlong into one of the bars. The Kyuubi tensed. One more inch…

"Kill me," the boy whispered, yet still clearly audible to the giant beast. "It's too much, no more, just kill me, anyone, please just let me die."

The Kyuubi froze. A soul in agony, crying out for death, in contact with a work of the Shinigami. It was tantamount to a summons.

The room went ice-cold, and outside in the physical world, Naruto's heart stopped.

* * *

><p><strong>Ain't I just evil? I've decided to stop being so stubborn and release chapters in 5000 increments. In theory, now updates will come twice as fast! Anyway, pay attention. I have big plans for this. Ja ne!<strong>


	3. Beginnings

**I've had so much fun thinking this through in my head that I kinda forgot that I actually had to write it down. And what good is it if the world doesn't even see it all? So, here's my belated update.**

* * *

><p>The Kyuubi could do nothing but watch in growing horror as the already dim light of its prison was diminished to barely more than that given off by a single candle. Frost literally formed on every surface there, including the Kyuubi's fur. The water that made life oh so uncomfortable for the cramped quasi-animal froze solid, while tiny flickers of a ghostly-blue light that had no basis in reality reflected off the brand-new crystals.<p>

Oddly, the child seemed unaffected. It just sat there, whimpering piteously, in what was probably the only warm spot in the room.

Then the Shinigami appeared. There was no poof of smoke, no distortion in the air, no muted flash of light. One second there was nothing there, and the next it was, making the Kyuubi flinch in surprise as it tried and failed to hide its fear of the only being that could truly kill it.

The Shinigami had many forms, changing between them as easily as a human changes t-shirts. However, it stuck with its preferred appearance for this manifestation. A wickedly-grinning Oni, its teeth black and pointed, gazed down at the scene with the black-yellow eyes of a beast. Its purple body was clad in a simple white kimono that billowed around it without any whisper of the air to explain the movement. Hair as white and brittle as old bone reached to its lower back, framing its head with a wild, spiky halo, flowing around its two horns without trouble. Prayer beads covered its tattooed left arm, covered in angular and harsh seals in a language no one remembered. In its mouth was held a simple, chisel-tipped tanto.

"_**Greetings, Wild One. Even halved, you are no less impressive."**_

The words echoed through the air without any movement of the Shinigami's lips. Its voice was as listless and dry as a month-old corpse.

"**You don't need to gloat," **the Kyuubi hissed back, trying to hide its completely rational fear. Death was the ultimate force, and one didn't cross the physical embodiment of it if one wanted to continue breathing.

"_**True. But I did not come here to trade words with you.**_"

The Oni lowered its head to regard Naruto, who had been curled into a limp ball by the bar the entire time. Even with its unnatural hearing, the god still had trouble hearing the weak chant running out the despairing child's mouth. "Kill me, kill me, hurts me, kill me." Over and over again, as if the boy were hoping that the next one would end with his death rattle.

"_**How did this come to be?**_" the Shinigami asked, his eyes never leaving the boy.

"**A human who, like almost every single ape in the village this one lives in, believed the boy was really me bound in human form decided to take his vengeance for the damage I caused during my rampage under those thrice-damned eyes. This is the first major attack on the boy's person, but there have been countless instances of petty cruelty throughout his small time in the world.**"

Normally the Kyuubi wouldn't be this talkative. It would growl and insult and otherwise clench its teeth rather than give out any kind of information that would help another being. However, the fox was a creature of cunning, and it had occurred to him that his recent moral quandary might well be solved. Any edict from the Shinigami was as good as mandatory. You. Cannot. Defy. Death. At least, not when it's right in your face, looking you in the eye. If the Kyuubi presented all the facts, the god might decide to intervene, and the choice to help with all its confusion and conflict with the Bijuu's instincts would vanish. The alpha must be obeyed, and the demon had no illusions as to who of the three beings there was in charge.

The Shinigami seemed not to hear the words. He was staring at the boy with an intensity that made the Kyuubi certain that the reaper was seeing more than just the child in front of him. Then it started talking to itself. Like, a literal conversation.

"_**Curious. I cannot see his Path,"**_ it said with an odd kind of contented confusion.

"_**This bodes. Whether for better or worse remains to be seen,"**_ it said again, with completely different inflections, filled with nothing but logic and calculation. It was as good as another voice, even though it came from the same throat.

"_**This one represents a danger. It should be removed,"**_ came yet another voice, this one so harsh and cold that the ice around the room grew an inch thicker with its passing. The Kyuubi shivered, and tried not to attract the attention of the god.

"_**Ah, but it can also be a hope. Such is the way of those like him,"**_ said the first, "kind" voice.

"_**It shall bring salvation or damnation. Either way, it shall bring change. That warrants interest… and caution,"**_ intoned the "calm" voice.

"_**Let us fulfill our purpose and begone. This is not for us to decide,"**_ snarled the "cold" voice.

"_**But what is our purpose? The summons has been made, but no bargain struck. We are free to do with this as we wish,"**_ Kind pointed out.

The Shinigami nodded to itself_**. "Such an opportunity is rare indeed. It should be fully utilized."**_ Calm could have out-droned any daimyo.

"_**That is not for us to decide! Our place is to devour, not create!"**_ screamed Cold.

"_**The roaring fire can as easily cook the meal as burn the house. Why should we not be as free to build as destroy?"**_ Kind patiently asked.

"_**A subtle touch is needed, if we choose to use it. His Path is beyond our sight, but it is bound to intertwine with others. A single flap of a butterfly's wings can bring the monsoon."**_ Calm said with neither concern nor apathy.

"_**Ah, about those others…"**_ Kind mused, an undeniable grin in his voice.

"_**No!"**_ screamed Cold_**. "It is too much already to even consider making him a Hand! Those ghosts you keep around must not return. Their time has come and passed! The world must follow its own course! WE. WILL. NOT. INTERFERE!" **_

The Kyuubi worried that the room would collapse, it was so loud.

"_**A valid point,"**_ Calm noted, unphased. _**"But it might not be wholly unbiased. Tradition alone has stayed our hand for all this time. Divinity has long since invaded the realm. There is a great deal of benefit for us, should the boy prove worthy."**_

"_**And we could destroy ourselves if he does not!"**_ Cold growled, though there was a hint of concession in it.

"_**Oh, but I have a feeling he will,"**_ Kind mused. _**"Also, consider this: whichever extreme he chooses, he will slay a great many. Some we might otherwise never touch. Thus would he help serve our purpose."**_

"_**That is… true,"**_ Cold grumbled.

"_**Then, are we in agreement?"**_ asked Calm.

"…_**Yes,"**_ muttered Cold, bitter defeat in its tone.

"_**Indeed,"**_ grinned Kind.

"_**Then, there is an accord,"**_ stated Calm.

"_**Let it be done"**_ said a voice that sounded like all three of them talking at once.

The Kyuubi kept totally still. There weren't a great many gods. Most of the ones who even paid attention to the mortal realm mostly saw it as a source of amusement. The Juubi had been the result of an errant experiment. The various bloodlines that the humans were so proud of were the legacies of 'nights on the town'. That didn't matter much to the Kyuubi. It could accept that it was a fraction of an accident. What mattered was _how_ it existed, not _why_. What did concern him was the mention of a Hand.

Once in a great, great while, a god decided to elect a mortal their champion, since they couldn't directly interfere with the world beyond their set purpose. Since every god was prescient (not omniscient, that was an order of magnitude beyond the custodians of a mere planet), they knew exactly what would happen each time. Of course, that would be rather boring, so a god generally chose a mortal whom was, for whatever reason, immune to this power. The people exempt from fate often wound up being the ones who changed the world.

These champions were, appropriately, called the Hands of insert-god-name-here.

Suddenly, the Kyuubi didn't think his imprisonment would be nearly as boring as he thought it would be.

* * *

><p>The Hokage sat in his office. He appeared to be alone, but that didn't mean much in a village full of shinobi.<p>

"Do you understand the mission I have assigned you?" the Sandaime asked the darkness.

"I am to visit a Yamanaka, have all my memories of the village's security suppressed, and then assess the village as I would an enemy settlement," came a monotone voice, seemingly without origin.

"Very good. I'll expect your report in 72 hours. Dismissed."

The shadows of the office suddenly seemed less substantial than they had a second prior.

Hiruzen sighed as he allowed his spine to relax and leaned back in his chair.

The Council had taken the news that it no longer existed rather well. Hardly any bones had been broken. The clan heads were trained to adapt, the elders had their own ways to get things done (much as Hiruzen resented that), and the civilians were convinced it was all a horrible nightmare they would soon awake from. Only the most spoiled or fanatical civilians (and, unsurprisingly, Uchiha Fugaku) had required "assistance" leaving the Council Chamber.

Hiruzen had gone from the Chamber to his office, where he had started on the truly daunting task of making Konoha a village worthy of its title as the greatest. In his prime, it had already been that way, but in the brief six years since the Kyuubi attack, standards had dropped appallingly under the Sandaime's complacence.

The first step was figuring out just what he had to fix, which was the reason for his latest ANBU assignment. Once he had compiled all the information necessary, then the elderly Sarutobi would have to draw up logistics, revise command structures, issue commands, contract renovations… basically a heaping host of things that all demanded paperwork, which Hiruzen was **NOT** looking forward to. The good news was that the absolute power of the daimyo's edict would cut what would have taken years of negotiations and opposition and red tape down to a matter of weeks. By this time next year, the Hokage expected to look down on a much different village from his window.

As the Sandaime was debating the pros and cons of sleeping on the small couch in his office to himself, he felt a chill run up his spine as a shrill tone not unlike an alarm starting ringing from his desk. He glanced with growing apprehension towards the source.

During his all-too-brief reign as Hokage, Minato had carved a series of alarm seals into the Hokage's desk linked to every major hub of the village, from the market to the gates to the power plant; anyplace that might be targeted by enemy shinobi. The seals were set off by the destruction of any of the sub-seals scattered around the areas in question, which were so delicate that an excessive flare of chakra would be enough to set them off.

The seal for the hospital was going off.

Without a second thought, Hiruzen used Shunshin to the hallway outside Naruto's room.

He reappeared in the most haunting atmosphere he had ever felt.

The air felt like it was imported from the heart of Yuki no Kuni. Hiruzen could clearly see his breath as his body immediately started protesting at the temperature. The only sound was the old man's breathing, and even that was oddly muted. The fluorescent lights flickered half-heartedly, as if on their last volts. The antiseptic scent of the hospital was abnormally sharp.

Bat all these paled next to the pervading sense of nothingness that flooded the hallway. It wasn't malignant or benign. It was neither choking and oppressive nor light and gentle. It was simply an empty, patient void that sucked at all feeling and thought as calmly and implacably as the ocean's tides.

Death. That's what it was. The hallway felt of Death.

The Sandaime noted all this in the back corner of his mind, more focused on opening the hidden locks that sealed the Secret Ward.

The presence Hiruzen had felt in the hallway was a whisper of wind next to the cyclone ravaging the ward.

The God of Shinobi, he of the thousand Jutsu and veteran status, almost froze. The aura of Death was massive. What power was mortal will against that dark, cold infinity? It took every ounce of his willpower, forged and tempered by painful experience, to move through that sense of helplessness, but move he did.

Hiruzen pushed through the heaviness of the air to stand next to Mouse, stiff and immobile as a statue. Together, they gazed at the source of the void.

Uzumaki Naruto lay in the hospital bed, as pale and rigid as any corpse. The instruments hooked up to him were all silent. His body was surrounded by a nimbus of chakra so bright and dense that the Hokage had to squint to catch even a hazy outline of the boy. The chakra wasn't the garden-variety human chakra Hiruzen knew so well. It was ghostly white, with the barest hint of blue. It wasn't flaring like a fire, like every chakra Hiruzen knew. It simply incased the boy, an oblong sphere, like an ephemeral cocoon. It pulsed frequently, like an otherworldly heart, the sense of Death pulsing with it. Shining through the thing cloth of the hospital shirt, the seal burned with a piercing light that made the eye-searing chakra seem like dull lead.

Questions, concerns and theories raced through Hiruzen's head as he gazed on the unnatural scene of Naruto wrapped in an embrace of deadly power. _'The chakra's not red,'_ Hiruzen noted. _'This is not the Kyuubi.'_ Rather than comfort, this thought frightened the old Sarutobi. The situation involved an unknown. Ninja died due to unknowns.

Without warning, the chakra cocoon receded into the seal at a speed that even Hiruzen barely caught. And then everything was normal. The air was warm, the lights were bright, the machines were beeping, and the atmosphere was calm. Naruto was breathing the breath of the sleeping, his skin back to its light tan.

For a full minute, Hiruzen and the man known as Mouse stood still, their minds still in shock. Then the Hokage took over and began asking questions.

"What happened?"

Mouse's eyebrows furrowed, which was perhaps the biggest physical expression of emotion he'd done that year. "He went into cardiac arrest. No warning, no arrhythmia beforehand, it was like a switch flipped. Strangely, none of his organs started failing. I was wondering how to restart it when… all that happened."

Hiruzen didn't have much time to ponder, as the instruments started their discordant chorus. Naruto was waking up.

* * *

><p>The Shinigami, the One Who Was Three, reappeared in its Throne Room.<p>

That was a bit of a misnomer. Every single deity had some central hub of their power. It was a law of the universe; all that energy couldn't exist without some kind of anchor. It could as easily be a garbage dump as a treasure room hidden in the heart of a sun. However, given the proclivity of human beings to worship creatures that could shape the world, and the widespread weakness for flattery among the divine, almost every god had an opulent palace half-hidden in the Spiritual Plane as their hub. This led to 'Throne Room' becoming the general term for this central hub. God complexes went so much further when actual gods suffered from them.

The Shinigami hadn't crafted its Throne Room with luxury in mind. Death was really just a stepping-stone in the chain of Creation. The Shinigami's mandate was limited to collecting expired souls from the Mortal Plane (from a specific planet at that), and seeing to it that those souls were judged. Its throne room, by necessity, had to be large enough to house the billions of souls that were slowly sent one by one on to the next link in the chain for them. Also, no one area could be seen as better than the rest, as all souls are equal in death, and if one area was marginally less uncomfortable or boring, then it could be seen as special treatment.

The Shinigami had taken a grass field from the southern continent of its planet, replicated it precisely 4,444,444 times, and added a tree from the heart of the central continent at the center, seven times larger than it would naturally be after two centuries of growth, its foliage as dark and flickering as shadows at night. The sky was always that of dusk just after the sun had set. As far as the eye could see, there were the translucent forms of the dead.

The Shinigami floated over to the tree. The scene was so familiar that it was all but invisible to it. There was the Judge, at the foot of the tree, deciding whether the latest soul before its piercing eye would go to Heaven or Hell, or be reincarnated, or released into the universe as formless energy, the list went on and on. And there were the dead, their expressions getting more and more remote as they came nearer to Judgment. And there, in the branches, was his Collection.

The Shinigami had considerable power in its Throne Room, but keeping billions of undying, often desperate creatures in line at all times was pushing it. Besides, the god could not spend all eternity in its Throne Room monitoring the dead; who would collect the souls from the Mortal Plane? The solution was the Shinigami's Collection.

The Collection was a group of souls with either the power or the people skills to stifle the (annoyingly) frequent rebellions amongst the dead, particularly by the fresh souls. The souls in the Collection were hand-picked by the Shinigami, but each one had to choose to take the offer. All things are equal in death; there had to be a price to that power.

Those in the Collection were able to spend eternity in relative comfort, existing however they wanted in the branches of the massive tree. In exchange, those in the Collection lost any chance of facing Judgment. By accepting the Shinigami's blessing, they condemned themselves to an everlasting existence as ghosts.

Essentially, it was a choice between waiting in line for decades to be assigned an uncertain fate, and spending forever bound as a glorified cop with decent fringe benefits. You'd be surprised how few actually accept.

As the Shinigami drew nearer to the tree, what appeared to be leaves from a distance resolved into shadowy shapes and outlines, like the silhouettes of reflections.

The Shinigami ignored these wisps with a practiced focus. Each soul in his collection had the power to mold their own pocket dimension, accessible only by them and, of course, the god who ruled them. It took only a modicum of the Shinigami's will, like focusing its vision, to cross the thin layer separating the microcosms from the fabric of its Throne Room; hence the intentional disinterest. The Shinigami had robbed his Collection of any chance to move on. It was a necessary evil, but it was still significant. All three of it agreed that privacy was the least of the comforts it could provide in return.

The Shinigami paused once it reached the crown of the tree, a flat circle that was roughly the size of a training ground in the village it had just left. Then all three of it spoke.

"_**Come."**_

The Collection all appeared, walking out of their personal realms to kneel before their lord. The god surveyed them and reflected on just how different they all were. The march of progress explained some of it: civilizations could vastly differ over time. Then there were the various dimensions, leading to more variety. Even so, the Shinigami's planet seemed particularly diverse.

Okay, brief physics lesson. To greatly simplify a concept that the greatest mortal minds have been baffled over, think of the universe as a radio. The infinite planets and stars are like different notes in the music. The dimensions are like the different frequencies, each different from the other, each with its own unique laws of physics. The Mortal Plane was to AM as the Spiritual Plane was to FM. That was why even though the Shinigami only monitored one planet in the Mortal Plane, almost every soul in its Collection seemed like they came from a different world.

"What is it you require, _Maestro_?" questioned a hooded man, wearing black robes beneath a suit of armor festooned with numerous weapons. A cowl covered his head, but the lines around his mouth and the color of his beard suggested he was in the late prime of his life. He spoke with a lilting, musical accent.

The Shinigami went straight to the point. _**"I have appointed a Hand in the dimension where our Sage originated. I require volunteers to train him and the companions he will make, but no more than half of you may leave. My realm must always have guardians." **_It said the last with the calm assurance of stating a law of the universe, because it was.

The bare twenty souls of the Collection broke into excited chatter. After millennia of routine, this was a welcome break with routine. One soul in particular, wearing a necklace made of six enameled magatama, seemed agitated. His rippled eyes were alive with interest. "My own world… what a coincidence."

"Well there's no way you're going, darling," stated the woman next to him, her voice playful yet posh. Tall and buxom, with midnight hair that fell to her ankles, and dressed in a form-fitting body suit, she dripped with sexuality and deadliness in equal measure. Not even the mole, glasses, and brightly-colored lollipop in her mouth could shake the impression that this woman could as easily break a man as charm him. "You're the newest one in this little club. Let those of us that are bloody well dying of boredom have this outing."

"If he's staying, so am I," stated an orange-haired youth clutching what appeared to be a bandage-wrapped butcher knife. "I still haven't figured out a way past that defense of his. Like hell I'm going to lose my best sparring partner."

"Oh, oh, let me go, please! This place is only fun when things are disasteriffic, and then it's _not_ fun! Sure we get to kick bad guys' butts, but it all gets so dang repetitive! I need a bit of fresh air!" This was all said in one breath by a blond young woman wearing attire more suited for a day flirting at the beach than the realm of the dead. A pair of oversized, curved daggers hung by her hips.

"If she go, then Kimahri go as well," murmured the furred giant standing behind her. His features, like always, seemed set in stone. A golden halberd was slung over his massive shoulders, distracting from the broken point of the horn growing out his forehead.

"I will not go. I have no wish to reenter the games of mortals." The woman who said this seemed a born huntress. Her features were cool and calculating, and she held a bow as if it were a natural extension of her arms. A songbird with black and white plumage perched on her shoulder, singing a four-note melody in a disturbingly human voice.

The Shinigami watched as its Collection gradually divided itself into those that would remain as keepers of the souls and who would train his Hand. In the end, ten souls elected to leave. Two were brothers in all but name, both wielding oddly-shaped blades. The third was an extremely chipper young lady armed with what looked like some cross of a fishing rod and a deer's horns. The fourth and fifth were the hyper girl and her furred friend. The sixth was the deadly beautiful woman. The seventh was an unassuming blue-eyed woman of around 30 that kept her arms held against her chest in an odd position, as if she were hugging herself. The eighth was a youngish man with blond hair, a very interesting broadsword, and a tired expression. The ninth was a positively feral woman with red fangs on her cheeks wearing a wolf's skin on her shoulders and a crystal arrowhead around her neck. The final member of the retinue was the hooded man that had first spoken.

That left half the Collection to look after the realm of the dead in their absence. That included the orange-headed swordsman, the man with the ringed eyes, and the huntress, but did not stop there. There was also a pale woman with a blue cloak and a jewel in her forehead, a blond man clutching a small top, a disfigured man with a rapidly-spinning blue eye, a crouching dark-haired sleep-deprived youth chewing on a candy-bar, an Englishman with a pipe and an analytical expression, a composed strawberry-blond woman with a weapon that was really two in one, and finally a tanned-skinned, half-drunk seaman with black dreadlocks and a compass hanging off his belt.

The Shinigami did not grin, but one could sense its contentment. If what Fate had planned for its Hand's village occurred, then those returning with him would end up being the perfect group of teachers.

Apparently, even gods got a lucky day every now and then.

(The first to name every soul in the Collection will get whatever fanfiction-based award they desire, from a one-shot to a conversation with a character to a look at the future of any one of my fics. Kimahri is a free card, so nineteen to go. Hint: not all of them are from the minds of the Japanese.)

* * *

><p>Uchiha Fugaku walked down the streets of his District, ready to murder the next person he set eyes on in the most brutal, inhumane way he could think of. Luckily, the streets were deserted this late (or, rather, early).<p>

Fugaku was not what any reasonable person would call humble. Nor should he be. He had plenty to be proud of. He had money, power, a loving wife, two healthy sons, and a bloodline that was the fear and envy of the entire Shinobi world. What man could say that Fugaku didn't have enough?

Fugaku himself, for starters.

So he and his kin had their own section of Konohagakure to themselves. It was a ghetto, a cage meant to lock them up away from the village at large. The Uchiha clan had been there at the founding of Konoha. Were they revered in the streets; welcome amongst those that owed their very livelihoods to the actions of the Uchiha clan? No, they were kept inside their own little District, rarely venturing outside. Fools saw that and said it was a sign of respect, of homage. No, it was banishment, however gilded the prison might be.

So he had a family. His wife was frail and weak, good for nothing outside of maintaining a household. She was hesitant when fulfilling his needs and deaf when he shared his thoughts. He was a lion, but he had to share a bed with a sheep. His sons were even worse. Itachi was a genius, the pride of the clan. For a time, Fugaku had high hopes for him. But Itachi's prowess had made him cocky. He brushed off his duties to his clan in favor of his job as an ANBU, when his house should have always come first. When Fugaku spoke with his firstborn, he saw defiance looking back. Sasuke was a disgrace. He struggled at tasks Itachi had completed with ease. He was sensitive and whiny. Instead of being toughened, he was coddled by his mother. It was obvious: Sasuke was Mikoto's son, not Fugaku's.

So he had the great Sharingan. The same men who praised it whispered how it was a handy tool for a clan of thieves. There were laws in place that prevented Uchiha from using their eyes against 'comrades'. That was the height of disrespect to Fugaku's mind. The Uchiha clan was the greatest clan in all the Shinobi nations. The Sharingan was the manifestation of their gods-given right to power. What were the petty grievances of those they took power from next to the might of the Sharingan? Fools like the Hokage denied this, putting limits on that which should never be restrained!

So you see? Uchiha Fugaku led a very hard, deprived life.

For years Fugaku had endured, swallowing abuse after abuse from the village as his clan drew further and further from its rightful glory. He had taken the smirks of the Hyuuga, the drivel of the civilians. At times, he thought it would drive him mad.

And then the Kyuubi had attacked, and the path had opened.

If ever there was a man Fugaku feared, it had been Namikaze Minato. The Yondaime had not just been strong, he had been charismatic. People, from street urchins to clan heads, had loved him. He could unite the entire village in a way Fugaku couldn't manage with his own clan. Add all that to the fact that Namikaze's thrice-damned Hiraishin rendered him all but immune to the Sharingan, and Fugaku was faced with an immovable obstacle between him and any way to get power back to the Uchiha.

But a miracle had occurred. Within a single night, the Yondaime had died, the ANBU had been devastated, and the Sandaime had been reinstated.

Fugaku couldn't care less about how many died in the attack; none had been Uchiha, and the rest were insects to be stepped on anyway. All he cared about was how the Namikaze was gone and that Sarutobi had taken his place.

Having 'the Professor' as Hokage was the next best thing to having an Uchiha wearing the hat, as far as Fugaku was concerned. The old fool was weak and inattentive, nothing like his successor had been. With so much more freedom, Fugaku had quietly started to plot.

It had started slow, but such was the nature of these things, and Fugaku could be patient. A family at a time, Fugaku had set about recruiting his clan to his cause. A sympathetic ear, a word of agreement, a favor here or there. It had all been so easy. By the time Sasuke had turned three, Fugaku had convinced at least two-thirds of his clan of the necessity of this grand idea:

A coup d'état. Taking back the power that Uchiha should have had from the start.

For the past three years, Fugaku had worked out how to seize Konoha. It had not been easy. Nothing as overt as a meeting of the conspirators could ever happen; paranoia was as much a blessing as a curse in these cases. Fugaku had to piece together a plan from data and logistics brought to him a piece at a time by the various sections of his clan. At the moment, Fugaku calculated that his plan had about a 60% chance of working. There were only so many weapons they could stockpile at a time, and how many sections of Konoha they could map out through police patrols. The basic attack plan was sound, but there were still a great many unknowns in the equation.

But there was no more time. By some hideous trick of fate, the Sandaime had finally grown a spine. With the power of martial law, any chance of a rebellion working would vanish, and with all the improvements that Fugaku could sense on the horizon, it might never return. The time was _now_.

Fugaku slid into his home and went to his private office. Itachi was still out, and he could sense that the other two he had to call family were asleep. He had as much privacy as he could hope for. The Uchiha clan head reached under his desk and felt the hidden messenger seals he'd carved to alert the heads of the conspiracy when he wanted to meet. He'd only ever activated two at once and even that had been a risk.

This time, he activated them all.

All eight of his main lieutenants appeared within the next minute. One or two looked half-asleep, and they all seemed surprised to see each other. A lesser man might have felt a dip in their confidence, but Fugaku was an Uchiha.

"There's been a development. We will have to move the coup ahead of schedule."

* * *

><p><strong>I am so, so, so, SO sorry it's taken me so long to update! I keep saying that I'm a writer, and I keep having these wonderful ideas, but the truth is that I'm as lazy as Shikamaru when it comes to actually writing it down. I can't apologize enough. I know this can't make up for almost a year's silence, but it's all I have. Feel free to burn me. Adieu!<strong>


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